


Firsts and Lasts

by starsystems



Series: summerpornathon 2011 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: summerpornathon, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsystems/pseuds/starsystems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The old stone wall ran along the farthest border of the grounds of the Pendragon summer home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts and Lasts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the First/Last Times challenge at summerpornathon 2011.

The old stone wall ran along the farthest border of the grounds of the Pendragon summer home. It wasn’t much more than just rocks piled into something resembling a wall, seemingly held together with only the moss that was growing in between the stones.

It had been there forever. It had been there all of Arthur’s life and all of his father’s life. Maybe all of his grandfather’s life too. No one knew who had built it and no one cared enough to knock it down.

Arthur liked the wall. It was a little like a hiding place, his own spot far enough from the house that no one could call him inside from the sun, or keep him away from anything fun. In Arthur’s experience, everything fun was always “too dangerous” if his dad or his nanny were allowed to decide.

The first time Arthur met the boy, he was nothing more than an eye in a hole in the wall. Just a huge, very blue eye with hints of gold around the edges of the iris.

Arthur stared back at it without blinking. When it became obvious that he was going to have to be the one to start the conversation, he said: “My name is Arthur Pendragon and I’m five years old. Who are you and what are you doing with my wall?”

“It’s not your wall,” the boy said. “I am Merlin. You are pretty.”

“You can’t say that a boy is pretty,” Arthur said. “Only girls are pretty. Boys are _handsome_.”

“Nah,” the blue-eyed boy called Merlin said. “You’re pretty.” His eye vanished from sight and Arthur heard him fight his way on top of the wall. He looked up and saw Merlin leaning over, smiling widely.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure he liked this boy. He was too... too cheerful. “Well, you have funny ears,” he retorted.

“Want to play?” Merlin asked.

Arthur faltered. This was new territory. No one had ever just asked him to come and play before. It had always required introductions and permissions and his father’s approval. He wasn’t sure if there was a polite way to say “no thank you” to an invitation like this.

“Fine,” he said. “But I can’t come over there, I need to stay within the grounds.” He still remembered with vague terror the last time he had broken that rule. His father had looked so _sad_.

“It’s all right,” Merlin said. “I can come over if you want. But then I am going to be invisible to everyone else. Only you can see me.”

“Fine,” Arthur said again. Merlin’s game was strange, but Arthur could play along. “You’ll be my imaginary friend, then. I’ve heard they are quite popular.”

x

At fifteen, Arthur Pendragon had rejected the idea of imaginary friends. But Merlin was still his secret. He wouldn’t tell anyone about him, especially not to the adults in the house. Merlin was a secret, like hidden treasure or a lost fairytale, something that Arthur couldn’t quite explain, or understand.

Summer nights smelled like lilacs and freshly cut grass and Arthur stained the knees of his jeans green when he knelt to peer through the small hole in the wall. “Hey, Merlin,” he whispered. “Want to come out and play?”

Merlin’s dark hair fell into his eyes when he peered down at Arthur over the wall. “Hello, pretty boy,” he said. “Want to come over to my side today?”

“Not really,” Arthur said and Merlin shrugged. It was the same every time they met. Arthur wasn’t quite sure what it was that kept him on his side of the wall. It was just a vague feeling in the pit of his stomach, like a warning. Something about Merlin always made him nervous.

Merlin climbed the wall and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, steadying himself when he flung his legs over to Arthur’s side. “Hey, hey,” he whispered close to Arthur’s ear. “I have thought of a new game.”

Whenever they touched, it sent pins and needles down Arthur’s spine. It was like the quick numbing feeling of a small electric shock, and not like a shiver at all. The wall pressing against Arthur’s back was still warm from the sun. Merlin’s lips were soft and tasted of unknown spices.

“Do you like my new game?” Merlin asked when his hand slipped under the hem of Arthur’s shirt, fingertips soft on the skin of his stomach.

Arthur didn’t answer, _couldn’t_ answer when his mind was drowning in the conflicted feelings of confusion and fear and _want_. He pushed Merlin down on the grass with trembling hands, eyes unable to look away from the curve of Merlin’s neck and the line of his collar bone.

“I come up with the best games,” Merlin said and pulled him down so that he was straddling him. Arthur felt awkward and embarrassed, but he couldn’t help but grind his hips down, seeking friction. There was already sticky sweat forming in his neck and armpits so he took his shirt off and actually saw himself blush all the way down to his chest when Merlin flicked his tongue over one of his nipples. “Relax, Arthur,” Merlin whispered. “Let me. Just let me.”

So Arthur leaned back and let him. He let Merlin press his mouth wherever he wanted, let him touch wherever his hands went. He thought: “ _I can never tell about this to anyone_ ” and it crushed him down, like gravity had suddenly doubled, pressing him against the earth. Merlin’s mouth slid over his hipbone and Arthur thought, with all his teenage despair, how the best part of his life was invisible to everyone else.

He was coming almost before Merlin’s lips touched his cock. And he couldn’t quite believe any of it.

The sky was clear, the stars visible over him, winking like they were in on the joke.

There was something in his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. “If I...” he managed to say. Then he stopped, cleared his throat, and waited for Merlin’s laughter to stop. “If I would come to your side, would I be able to get back?” Arthur asked. The question didn’t feel as silly as it ought to, not when Merlin stopped smiling and pressed against Arthur, all warmth against his cooling skin.

“No, I don’t think so,” Merlin said.

“Oh,” Arthur said. “Okay.” He thought of the house, now just a dark shape behind them, and his father, spending bright summer days indoors, in the shadows. He thought of how Merlin’s body was warm against him, like the wall, like it still retained the warmth of the sun long after it had set. He kissed Merlin again, but couldn’t quite bring himself to run away with him.

x

Arthur was tired. Getting out of the city and away from his life for a bit had seemed like such a good idea, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. The end of August felt like the wrong time to come here. The summer house was full of shadows, like in every memory from his childhood. It felt haunted and not his at all.

This funeral had burned in a completely different way than his mother’s had. His father had been old, sick and finished, ready to go. But maybe his sorrow wasn’t really for his father, but for himself. He thought about how much of his life had been lived by his father’s rules, his father’s decisions. It felt hollow now, to be finally alone and with nothing of his own to show for it.

He walked across the freshly cut lawn, towards the back of the grounds, towards the wall. It took a while because he kept stopping and pressing his hand against the trunks of the apple trees and the large oak, brushing his fingers over rose and tulip petals, making up excuses to sit down on the bench under the weeping willow.

Merlin was waiting for him, sitting on top of the wall, still looking like he was somewhere in his early twenties. “You took your time,” Merlin said.

“Sorry,” Arthur said. “I felt like wandering for a bit.”

There was a pause when they just looked at each other. Arthur could smell the autumn in the wind already. He shivered and wished he hadn’t left his jacket in the house. Merlin was swinging his legs back and forth, kicking his heels gently against the wall.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Merlin said into the silence. “Want to come over to my side today?”

“Not so pretty anymore,” Arthur said, grimacing. “You sure you still want me to?”

“Always,” Merlin said. “And, yeah, still pretty.” He reached out a hand to Arthur, who took it and let himself be pulled forward. He climbed up and over the wall easily, like he was twenty again, like the wrong life he had lived hadn’t happened at all.

“The end,” Merlin grinned. “And welcome home.”


End file.
